Providing
by Charlotte.767
Summary: Tribute. Victor. Girl on Fire. Mockingjay. She was all of those things and more. But before the Games, the Quell, and the Rebellion she was just a poor, starving girl in District 12. A girl who had lost so much, but was still desperate to survive, to provide.


I have to go back. I really don't want to. I really can't go back. But I have to. If I don't go back now, I know we will all die. He didn't want us to die.

I know what he'd say to me right now if he were here. He'd say, "Katniss, you have to be strong." He'd say, "Katniss, remember what I taught you."

Remembering isn't the problem, though. I know how to hunt. I know how to hold my arrow. I know how to shoot. It is hunting skillfully that is the problem. I don't know how to hunt without him here. What if my arrows miss? What if I shoot them into a tree? What if I can't catch anything? How will we survive? How can I take care of Prim and my mother, if I can't provide them with food?

As I make my way to the fence, I exhale deeply and try to forget all these petrifying notions. I can do this. My father would believe in me. Just like he told me he did.

The night before my father died, he and I had gone on a huge hunting trip. By dusk, we had brought home a heap of game—enough to feed us for a few months, if we were careful. Mother and Prim were so happy. And I was happy too; I had caught something all by myself that day. A rabbit.

I remember being proud. I remember eating my rabbit stew, with my family. But what I remember most was my father's praise, "My little girl is growing up—"He'd begun and then stopped when I'd made a face. He laughed. "Don't be angry, Katniss." He said. "I'm proud of you. You're strong. That's good. I need someone by my side. Someone who isn't afraid. Don't ever be afraid," He chided, winking at me. I smiled. Mother crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not afraid," She said. "I'm not afraid of anything." But she was wrong.

She, Prim, and I _were _afraid. We were afraid when Father died. And we were all afraid now, too. We couldn't stay alive without him. He provided everything for us, even happiness.

But what father told me that night, when he said, "I'm proud of you", and when he said, "Don't ever be afraid." motivates me to fend for Prim, mother, and I. These are truly the only thoughts that keep me from running home, instead of propelling forward.

And through perseverance I finally reach the fence. I crouch down, slowly at first, and then easily slide underneath the part of the wire that is broken. When I make it to the other side—to the forest—I stand there for a moment, thinking. Every time I'd come to the forest, I'd crawl under the fence and wait for my father. I half-expected to find him behind me now. But when I turn around he isn't there and what I feel, instead of the anticipated happiness, is only his absence and the eeriness it brings.

Very slowly then, afraid I'll get caught by the Capital without my father's protection, I amble towards the forest.

Step by step, memories come back to be. Memories I don't want to see or feel. I try to push them to the back of my mind. But I can't forget and what I don't want to remember rises to the surface. Trying to escape the depth of my thoughts, I run forward. I run and run and run until I am deep inside the forest. And then I sit down and though I try very hard not to, I cry.

I hate myself for crying. I hate myself for being vulnerable. Crying isn't being strong. But as I sit here alone and afraid, I wonder, is it okay to cry, because I ache inside? Is it okay to cry because I miss him? Is it acceptable? Would Father be okay with this? Or would he be disappointed?

I don't know the answer. All I know is that I have to stop, and I do. If I didn't stop I would not have been able to hunt. And I need to do this. On my own. I need to prove to my father that I am strong and that I can take care of myself, and our family.

I sigh and stand up.

I realize I have probably scared away all the animals with my crying, but nevertheless search for movement in the trees and along the brush. When I don't find anything, I walk forward. Eventually, I come to the spring where father taught me how to swim. Where the plant I am named after grows. If I can't catch anything, at least I can find some Katniss. Find myself. Catch myself. Ha. The thought makes me smile.

Then suddenly, I hear something behind me. Very slowly I turn around. I don't want to scare whatever it is away.

My eyes peer around for a few seconds before they lock with a tiny creature's a few feet in front of me. The creature's ears perk up, listening for the sounds of its predators, as I gawk at it intensely. It hears nothing. Not even me.

I am an unlikely predator. When I reach back into my bag for one of my arrows, the animal does not flee quickly. It just continues to stare. Almost as if it's waiting to die. I shudder at the stupid thing. If I didn't rely on it for food, I would probably protect it myself from being harmed. But I need this animal's meat if my family and I are to survive. So in one swift movement I lift my arrow and shoot. You have to be quick, if you want to catch something.

However, I am not quick enough. My arrow flies through the air and then immediately sinks into the ground, missing the rabbit by only a foot. I stomp on the soil, frustrated, as the rabbit hops away, too fast for me to chase. Then I grudgingly go and retrieve my arrow from the dirt. When I take it out, I realize I forgot something my father had taught me. Height. If you shoot something from above, the animal will never know what hit them.

_Thanks_, I think. To no one.

I look for a good, sturdy tree. I find one to the right of me that's fairly high and has lots of branches. I climb up the trunk many times, slipping and falling with each attempt. Eventually, though, I reach one of the branches and with all my strength pull myself up. From here, climbing higher will be easy. Still, I travel slowly and cautiously until I am several inches above the ground. Then I sit on a large branch and make myself comfortable.

Hours pass, and I begin to worry nothing will come to this area of the forest. But the animals have to drink sometime, and as far as I know this is the only source of water around here.

Of course, I am right. Another rabbit, or maybe the same one, comes to the exact spot it was at before.

My heartbeat increases. I'm nervous. I want to catch the rabbit badly. I need to catch him. So I remain calm and get my arrow ready. Father says it's best to have a target. So, I decide to aim for the creature's stomach. I figure his heart shouldn't be too far away. And, maybe I'll even pierce it if I'm lucky.

I inhale and exhale deeply and then release my arrow. The rabbit's ears perk up as it hears the whipping sound of my weapon flying through the wind, but this time he doesn't have the chance to get away. My arrow pierces the creature right in the foot, almost—but thankfully _not_—missing it. The rabbit tries uselessly to run away, but it cannot drag its hind leg with my arrow in it.

I remember a story in school, about piercing someone's foot with an arrow. Some warrior named Achilles and a Prince (what they called people like the Capitol long ago) were having a fight. Achilles was the strongest warrior in the land, but the Prince took one shot with his arrow and killed Achilles, by piercing his foot. Though we learn this story in school, it is a common strategy for the Hunger Games. Tributes will often try and kill their opponents by stabbing them in the foot, or tearing a leg off. Hopefully I will never have to be in the Hunger Games. But if I am chosen and if I am not too cowardly, I know I will kill people this way. I always liked the Prince, despite that he is from the Capitol. He won the fight because of his intelligence, and not his strength.

When the rabbit ceases it's twitching, I tumble down and out of the tall tree. Unfortunately, I am not as graceful as my father yet. With practice, though, I know I can accomplish anything. Father always says this. I vow to be more careful next time.

Following, I take my arrow out of the rabbit's leg, cringing a bit at the blood that is oozing out. I've never liked blood and I've never been good with caring for sick people. I am not like my mother who, without any fear or difficulty, bandages people's wounds. I don't like to see her patient's pain, or feel it through their screams and moans. I feel sick myself, witnessing someone else's pain. I know, however, that I will have to get used to the sight of dead animals. I must get used to it because I am going to have to come back to the forest. A lot.

I pick the now-dead rabbit up off the forest floor by his ears and bring him to the spring. I sit down, and first begin to clean my arrow. Then I reluctantly drown the rabbit in the water so its blood will go away. When I have finished this task, I put my arrow inside my bag and set the bag down next to the rabbit.

Because it is dusk and this creature is the only thing I have caught, I know that I must find myself as well. I must find Katniss. Without something else, we will starve tonight. Fourteen days ago we ran out of the food my father and I brought home. We have been able to survive with just water and a loaf of bread from Mr. Mellark, but we now need more food. However, I am not the best hunter yet, and know that Prim, Mother, and I cannot live off the rabbit for long. So, I dive into the water and search for Katniss.

It takes me awhile before I find the plant, so I have to rise to the surface for a breath of air. After my breath of air, I dive back down and pull as hard as I can from the roots. About a minute has gone by before I finally retrieve the plant and come back to the surface.

When I venture out of the spring water drips from every inch of my body as if I am bleeding the liquid. So I twirl around as if I am dancing, hoping to dry myself off. Quickly, puddles of water begin to envelop me, until no more water drips from my clothes. But I am still drenched and so I wrench out my shirt and pants to further heat myself up. Eventually I realize that I cannot get rid of _all _the water and so I subsequently pick up my bag, the rabbit, and Katniss. Then I run home, the fast pace keeping me warm.

When I reach the wooden door of my house, I stand there for a moment and smile before opening it. Somehow I know my father is proud of me. In a strange way, finding the rabbit seems like a sign from him. A reward for staying strong. For rocking Prim to sleep at night, and cleaning the house. For not giving up. For hunting. For providing. And maybe I can give Prim and my mother more than just food. Maybe I can provide them with happiness too. Like my father.


End file.
